


Deflowering the Bentley (And how the Bentley may or may not feel about this.)

by CheyanneChika



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Crowley Tempts Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Pronouns for The Bentley (Good Omens), Fluff, Good Omens (TV) Spoilers, Hand Jobs, Historical Inaccuracy, I Don't Even Know, Idiots in Love, M/M, Made-up Backstories, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Pre-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sentient Bentley (Good Omens), Sex in a Car, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-04-12 11:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyanneChika/pseuds/CheyanneChika
Summary: It has occurred to Crowley that he has never actually had sex in his Bentley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I think?

**Crowley POV**

It was some three hours before the Almost Apocalypse that it occurred to Crowley that the world was about to end and, like Newton Pulsifer was thinking in Jasmine Cottage, he was considering the things he'd not had a chance to do.  Being a demon who lived on this planet for six millennia, and being a hedonist who didn't need money to do things, the list was rather short.

He hadn't patted the kraken that was now chilling in the Pacific.

He hadn't gotten Hastur to laugh at one of his jokes.

He hadn't gone to a single convention after Pestilence's last claim to fame, spreading H1N1 to PAX a decade ago.

And he hadn't had sex in his car.

It's something that, in retrospect, should have at least partially happened.  The car wasn't exactly designed to handle two prone figures, but a blowjob shouldn't have been difficult.

Okay so it was difficult.

Namely because there was only one being he ever let in his precious car for any reason and that was Aziraphale. (Footnote: And book girl but that was only at the angel's insistence and only the once.)

Therefore, finding some pretty human to do the deed hadn't happened.

When the car exploded some hours later, as Aziraphale tried to get his attention and he was "Having a moment!" he realized that he truly would never fuck in the car.  Another part of his mind reminded him that the world was about to be destroyed and, even though his Bentley had jumped the gun, sex in it had still been wildly unlikely.  That part of his brain was beat down and shot next to the dead horse.

And then it was Sunday and the car was back, just like the bookshop.

For some reason, the Bentley felt like she was a virgin again.  Well, she was already a virgin but now she was...extra virgin.  Like the oil.

There was a split second of Bentley + Aziraphale + oil = Crowley very happy.  And then it was gone.  The odds were not in his favor.  He and the angel had…dabbled in the past.  It had been a heady mix of lost bets, the Arrangement, drunken silliness and a desperate urge to give into the desires humans so readily enjoyed.

Besides, Aziraphale was an angel, talk about no strings attached.  There were no strings, angels and demons didn’t exactly have the same hang-ups as humans but they also did not have the same interests.  As far as Crowley could tell, a few light kisses and one or two mutual hand jobs three hundred years ago just to see what all the fuss was about seemed to be the end of Aziraphale’s interest.  He was even casual about it.  Crowley had been trying to recall something and the angel had said, without any actual forethought of tact, “Ah yes, that was the year after you insisted we test mutual, masturbatory techniques after consuming a great deal of wine.”

Crowley had never been more grateful for his shades as their hiding his eyes was the only thing that allowed him to lie.  “I don’t actually recall what year that was.”

Aziraphale had opened his mouth, hesitated and closed it again.  “I don’t recall either,” he’d said before moving the conversation along.

Crowley knew full well he shouldn’t have the same hang-ups as a human.  And yet, the angel…

Because he knew the truth now.  It didn’t want to just have sex in his car.  He wanted to have sex in his car _with_ Aziraphale.

He altered his very short list of things he hadn’t done in his six thousand years on Earth.

…

**Bentley POV**

The Bentley could say with absolute certainty that she did not appreciate being blown up.  She did appreciate being put back together but she rather desired not having to have been partially discorporated, driven through hellfire and not being treated for her injuries in a timely manner.

All the same, being back in mint condition was appreciated.

Her demon had stared at her when she found herself no longer a flaming wreck outside an airbase but back on the street outside her demon’s flat.

_Then he hailed a cab of all things!_

She’d been miffed about that but really, if he’d been blown up and was fine a day later, she might be suspicious too.  And by Tuesday, he was driving her as if nothing had happened.

When he stopped outside her angel’s shop, he sat in her cab for a long time.  He ran hands hesitantly over the wheel, dash, gearbox and radio.  Then he stared at the passenger’s side, down at the bench seat beside him and over to the window. 

Screw blowing up, she was suspicious now.

Then he got out of her and went into the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Aziraphale POV**

It was some three hours before the Almost Apocalypse that it occurred to Aziraphale that the world was about to end and, like Newton Pulsifer was thinking in Jasmine Cottage, he was considering the things he'd not had a chance to do.  Being an angel who had lived on this planet for six millennia and a being who didn't need money to do things, the list was rather short on things he was actually interested in doing.  Oh there were millions of things he _hadn’t_ done but they weren’t ones he _wanted_ to do. 

No, that list was rather short and, until recently, included obtaining a copy of _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter_.  Now it was:

Live through the apocalypse, preferably with Crowley also surviving.

Try Bubble Tea.

Lay on one of those memory foam mattresses from the telly.

Enjoy a sunset in the Caribbean with Crowley.

They’d enjoyed sunsets together and he’d enjoyed a few in Caribbean, back when he’d been trying to spread some peace even as pirates ravaged the area.  He’d actually gone, half-hoping it was Crowley’s doing so he could see the demon again. 

But Crowley hadn’t been there.  He’d been “mucking about with Mayan Calendars” two thousand miles away.

Aziraphale quite thought Crowley would enjoy a sunset with him in Barbados or Aruba, Cuba was also nice this time of year.  They could bring a picnic of fresh caught fish and some lovely wine and lay back on a blanket and watch the darkness fall only to be brightened by stars.

Aziraphale grimaced as the part of his mind that had been too much like a human’s started to take the image further.

He wasn’t naïve. He’d seen human pornography, many angels had.  Gabriel and Sandalphon had probably too but that was neither here nor there.  He’d lived in Rome and Greece.  Sexual activities hadn’t intrigued him then aside from the fact that they could bring people together even as they could tear them apart.

The point was that he knew what sex was and he knew he probably shouldn’t be thinking about, least of all with Crowley.

And yet, his thoughts drifted back to that night. They’d both imbibed and before making the effort to sober up, the demon had been propositioned by one of the young ladies of the night. 

_She was pretty thing, French, with a full, bright red, lower lip, shining hazel eyes and white powder that was the trend, giving her the look of a raggedy aristocrat in her gaudy, secondhand clothing.  She sat at their table, in Crowley’s lap, without so much as a by your leave and proceeded to place playful hands on Crowley’s body._

_Crowley had smirked and allowed the girl to display her wares for him as they chatted in French and Aziraphale sat, uncomfortable, beside them, looking anywhere else.  Finally, Crowley seemed to notice something amiss and sighed, looking between her and the angel._

_He focused on the girl and leaned in to whisper something in her ear.  She looked over at Aziraphale, took in his properly aristocratic attire and then leaned down to whisper in Crowley’s ear as well._

_Crowley smirked.  “Aziraphale, would you like to join—”_

_“Annette,” the woman put in._

_“—Annette and I this eve?” Crowley paused.  “For…ah, vigorous activities.”_

_“Thank you, no,” Aziraphale replied._

_“Your loss.” He stood and the prostitute slid out of his lap and landed daintily beside him.  The two disappeared and Aziraphale ordered another glass of wine._

_When he left the inn, he found Crowley lounging against the inn’s wall in shadow and smoking a cigarette.  Only the faint glow of his eyes behind tinted spectacles gave him away._

_“Where’s the young lady?” Aziraphale asked, staying out of the range of the smoke._

_“Asleep upstairs.”_

_“You’re not staying?”_

_“Why would I?”  The demon held up another cigarette.  “Want one?”_

_“No, thank you,” the angel replied._

_“I’m surprised you stayed so long,” Crowley said when the silence grew too thick._

_“If I’d known you were waiting—”_

_“I wasn’t waiting!” Crowley cut him off._

_“No, you’re smoking. Why?”_

_“It relieves stress?” Crowley shrugged and the tip glowed with flame.  “It’s what humans do.  Afterwards.  Light up and come down.”_

_Aziraphale looked away.  “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”_

_Crowley stiffened.  “Angel, I know the humans have gotten ridiculously stuffy about this thanks to the Catholics and all but you lived through the Greek and Roman orgy scene.  Have you never indulged?”_

_Aziraphale shook his head._

_Crowley lowered his spectacles.  “Never been tempted?”_

_“N-not once.  I honestly don’t see what all the fuss is about.” Bah, what a blatant lie.  Crowley._

_Crowley tempted him time and time again._

_“That’s a shame, Angel,” Crowley replied, leaning back and pushing his specs back up his nose.  “There’s ever so much fuss.  Pleasure, pleasurable pain, emotions, love, hate, passion, lust, relief.”_

_“Relief?” Aziraphale asked._

_“That bit at the end, the French call it La Petite Mort. The working yourself up and up with pleasure and pressure and heat all through your body and then you’re over the hill and you tumble down and it’s like you’ve died a bit and you can rest.”_

_Aziraphale swallowed.  “That does rather sound intriguing but I shouldn’t and you’ve already done so, this eve.”_

_“I’m not about to bend you over in an alley, Angel,” Crowley groused.  “Just com’ere.  Refractory periods are only for humans…and those who can’t use miracles.”_

_Aziraphale looked around very surreptitiously.  “I really shouldn’t.”  And yet, he was interested.  He knew he shouldn’t, he was an angel and Crowley was a demon and they shouldn’t be affected by human, carnal desires._

_And yet…_

_He took one slow step, then another and then he was in the alley and Crowley was smiling as he pulled the angel flush against him.  Aziraphale felt something in his body.  Warmth and small sparks and butterflies fluttered in his abdomen.  He’d felt this before, once in a similar circumstance.  It had been in Rome and Crowley had been spectacularly drunk and had swanned into the eating house where Aziraphale had been and kissed him with a forked tongue.  Then he pulled back and said, “And that! That is what it’s like to kiss an angel!” he yelled at no one in particular and swanned out again._

_This time, when Crowley pulled their faces together, it was to kiss him more gently, with less tongue but still creating warmth.  They kissed for minutes or hours, Aziraphale wasn’t much interested in keeping track, only noting when Crowley twisted them around so he was braced against the wall instead._

_Then Crowley’s left hand slid down his shoulder, brushed down his arm, over his and then ran a single finger along his hip and up to the strings that held his trousers together.  He slid slim, quick fingertips over his pants and then there was a strange shift in pressure and suddenly they were entirely gone, miracled away._

_Aziraphale gasped and pulled out of the kiss as his cock fell flush against the demon’s palm.  It rested on the open palm for a moment before Crowley shifted his grip and squeezed.  The feeling was surprisingly pleasurable.  Objectively, Aziraphale knew that this was supposed to be pleasurable.  But feeling it was entirely different.  “Crowley,” he rasped.  And goodness, what had happened to his voice._

_Crowley didn’t answer, only started running his hand up and down the angel’s length.  Azirphale was shuddering and shaking and his legs felt very wobbly.  “Crowley,” he said again, reaching out to grip Crowley’s shoulders to hold himself steady._

_Realizing his eyes had slid shut, Aziraphale forced them open to look at the fallen angel working him to orgasm, and blinked.  Crowley was looking down, eyes boring holes into his hand and Aziraphale’s cock in fierce concentration.  He was giving more attention to this task then Aziraphale had seen him give anything ever._

_And then he couldn’t think any more as pleasure overtook him and a white, milky substance spurted against Crowley’s hand and waistcoat.  Aziraphale sagged onto Crowley’s shoulder.  “That was…” he started._

_“Now you know.” Crowley’s voice was a touch shaky.  Aziraphale lifted his head and found Crowley’s expressionless face.  “I’ve got to go,” he continued, not meeting the angel’s eyes.  Aziraphale released him, automatically, and Crowley vanished into the night._

_…_

They’d only coupled in any way one more time after that and he doubted Crowley remembered it.  Clearly, he hadn’t actually been interested in adding a sexual component to their relationship as he refused to bring it up again.  So he’d let it go.

But as he was contemplating the end of the world, he altered his list of things he’d not had a chance to do to include:

Enjoy a romantic evening with Crowley that ends in coitus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not written smut since 2011. Please have mercy on me as I psych myself up to write more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short transition-y chapter.

**Aziraphale POV**

And then the apocalypse didn’t happen.

They had another crisis to divert, switching bodies and all, and that had been interesting.  He’d checked to make sure the Bentley had returned as Crowley, disguised as him, went to check the shop.  Everything was back the way it was supposed to be.

More or less.

And now, now being Tuesday, once more himself, back in his shop, he had to figure out what to do with the rest of eternity.

More importantly, his list of things he wanted to do sat heavily in the back of his mind.  Actually, it wasn’t so much in the back of his mind as it was front and center with garish lighting and romantic music. 

So for lunch, he went to the nearest Asian establishment that had it and bought himself a bubble tea.

It was weird.

The black tapioca balls did nothing for him.  The smoothie quality of the tea was fine, though he still preferred his tea hot and of the black variety.

He sighed and returned to the shop.  He’d settled at his desk to read barely an hour ago when the bell tinkled over the front door.  Aziraphale started to sigh until a voice called out, “Angel?”

A smile spread over his lips instead.  “In the back!”

The demon appeared in the doorway as Aziraphale stood up.  The smile dropped away.  Crowley was visibly tense.  “Is something wrong?”

“I…” Crowley started.  He hesitated visibly and then slumped.  “I’ve just been thinking about things.”

“That’s slightly terrifying,” Aziraphale put in when Crowley didn’t elaborate.  It wasn’t like his friend to dither, at least, not with him.

“I wondered if you’d come with me to dinner tonight.”

Aziraphale blinked.  “Of course.”

“Good, we’ll talk then.  Bye.”  Crowley turned tail and bolted.

“Crowley!” Crowley stopped.  “Where are we going?”

There was a long pause. “I’ll pick you up 'round eight,” he said quickly, voice echoing from the shop floor.

“Ver-very well.”  Aziraphale frowned.  This was very much out of character for his demon.

His.

Demon.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was getting out of hand.  The last item on the list now had flowers to go with the blinking lights.  He shoved the thoughts away.  He’d completed one of the things on the list. That should do for now.  Besides, he’d have to entice Crowley into leaving England.  Heaven knew he’d have to entice himself to leave the bookshop long enough for a trip to the Caribbean. 

But never mind.  Dinner with Crowley. Tonight. Mayhap he could bring up a vacation then.

**Crowley POV**

Crowley made it back to the car and let his head fall against the steering wheel.  That could have gone better.  He was supposed to be this seductive, clever demon, manipulation was the name of the bloody game.

What was supposed to happen was he would ask Aziraphale something related to sex and then, when the angel confessed that he hadn’t indulged or even been tempted, that it was finally time to give it a shot and his car was right outside.

What had happened was Crowley got to the back room, saw Aziraphale surrounded by his books and papers and dark wood and just at home and wanted to have him (or possibly be had, he was flexible) right there.

And that was not the point.

The point was to have some sort of sexual activity happen in the car.

With Aziraphale.

Only because no one else was allowed in his car.

His angel’s role was to complete a goal.

His.

Angel.

He started beating his forehead on the wheel.  He was so fucked.

**Bentley POV**

The Bentley wanted to comfort her demon as he inflicted head trauma to himself on her body.  He looked so forlorn.  She activated her radio to play “We Will Rock You” making Crowley sit up.  He looked at her radio.

“That’s new,” he muttered, but didn’t turn it off.  Success!  Crowley took a deep breath, started her up and headed off down the street.  “Right, dinner…in six hours.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Bentley POV**

Her demon drove around for nearly an hour.  They passed the bookstore without stopping three times before reaching the flat her demon favored.  As he turned her off, she settled onto the ground and he sat there for a several minutes.  She could feel his eyes boring into parts of her but he didn’t move his hands from the steering wheel.

“Right,” he growled and got out, shutting her door with a gentle thunk.  She wished more than ever that she could soothe him.  He kept her going, kept her as…well, the concept of happiness was hard to applicate to her but, save for the temporary partial discorporation via hellfire recently, he’d kept her as close to perfect as was possible.

But she couldn’t do the same for him.

**Crowley POV**

Crowley was panicking.

It was a silent panic, but panic nonetheless.

He was standing in the middle of the flat, trying to decide what he should wear for _someone’s_ sake.  He hadn’t changed his outfit in years.  It didn’t get dirty, not in the ways that a miracle couldn’t handle, and he wasn’t going anywhere in disguise.

Why was he even contemplating this utter foolishness?  Aziraphale didn’t even know what this dinner was or could be or anything.  He certainly wasn’t going to change out of that bloody tartan.  Crowley had changed with the times while the angel had been wearing the same coat for over two hundred years.  He wasn’t going to change it for a night out with Crowley.

 _He would if you asked_ , a voice in the back of his mind told him.  He squashed it like a bug and threw up his hands.  It wasn’t like he had other clothes on hand anyway.

He could miracle some clothes.

No.

Stop.

Not changing them. 

Enough.

He rested his forehead against the throne and groaned.  “What am I doing?” He lifted his head long enough to look at his watch.  “Four and half hours left.” He let his head fall down again.  “I should’ve just taken him out then,” he grumbled. 

What was he thinking? He didn’t even have a plan!  Take Aziraphale to dinner.  Take him back to the shop and before he can go in, ask, “Since you’re here, mate, would you do us a favor?”

He glanced down, while not as easy for access as ancient garb, zippers made things easier than all those unnecessary laces and buttons from the 19th century.  And these weren’t liable to fall down or fly up in a stiff breeze.

Maybe he wouldn’t change the outfit entirely.  Just…

The dark denim tightened at his hips and calves, wrapping more snugly around his human body.  He shrugged and left it at that.

He glanced at his watch again.  Four hours and twenty-four minutes.  “Right then.”

…

**Aziraphale POV**

Aziraphale did the only thing he could do when he didn’t want to worry about Crowley.  He poured himself into the restoration of a book he’d purchased earlier in the week. 

And he worried about Crowley.

Crowley was being strange.

Well, stranger than usual.

Well, that was a relative term. The world had just almost ended two days ago.

This could be the new normal, not that Hell wasn’t breathing down his demon’s neck and he didn’t have to pretend he was fine.

Did that mean he wasn’t fine now?

Was he going somewhere and this was a goodbye dinner or were they—?

Aziraphale’s mind fell into a very hazardous whirlwind of what-ifs and he had to physically shake himself to snap out of it.  “Enough!”

Crowley was not leaving.  He hoped Crowley wasn’t leaving.

Crowley was fine.  He’d seemed fine but for his awkwardness.  He hoped Crowley was fine.

This was just dinner.  “It’s just dinner,” he said aloud.

When the bell tinkled and Crowley’s “Angel?” echoed from the front of the shop, Aziraphale gave up any further thoughts and headed out to the front.

Crowley stood in the center of the room with his hands in his pockets, rocking a bit on the balls of his feet and…were his jeans tighter than usual?  He was still his obscenely skinny self but the trousers were very nearly pasted to his skin.

When he raised his gaze, Crowley had an eyebrow raised behind his shades.  “See something you like?”

Aziraphale ignored the jibe.  “Let me close up.”

Crowley smirked slightly.  He was definitely wearing tighter jeans on purpose!  But why?

Outside, Crowley opened and closed the Bentley’s door for him before taking his own seat behind the steering wheel.  Aziraphale wished he could see where Crowley was looking but the shades made it impossible.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Surprise,” the demon replied.

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, sounding surprised indeed.  “Very well then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhhh It is still this week and I promised a couple of people an update. Here it is. I finished my last paper and last project for my masters and I am done with collegiate education for EVER!!!! (Until I get antsy again in about three years.) Anyway, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Actually, I'm not sorry. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
